My Plague
by weatheredtome
Summary: Six years after the mansion incident, Rebecca Chambers is plagued by night terrors of an ominous castle on a secluded island. Desperate for mental freedom, she seeks out rumors for a cure. M for violence, language. BCxRC


Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with the Resident Evil series.

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Chapter One

The sun beat down especially hot that afternoon, the humidity pushing the heat index well over one-hundred. And it didn't help that her uniform was entirely black, or that there was a major lack of shade downtown. Officer Chambers scanned the sheet of pink paper she'd been writing on and pulled it from its pad. She wiped sweat off her brow indolently before folding the paper in half and tucking it securely behind the windshield wiper of a blue Nissan. She walked over to the next illegally parked car and started jotting down the next asshole's ticket. She placed it in it's appropriate spot and looked around apprehensively _'I swear if one more redneck yells at me today for giving them a ticket for parking in a red zone, I'm going to tear my hair out.'_ She thought. It was only half passed two and she'd already given out close to fifteen tickets, three of the fifteen recipients spotting her and becoming damn-near hostile. One man had roughly grabbed her arm and wouldn't let her go, leaving her the only option of macing him. And the whole way to the Police Station he continued blabbing on about police brutality and 'sue your ass'. She hated days like today, perhaps it was the weather that made everyone so stupid here, she wondered. Even in shaded spots it felt like a damn sauna. That was one thing she missed about her hometown, the weather was always pleasant, even on the hottest of days. She missed it there so much, her mom and dad, mostly. Her hometown, Amity, was next to Raccoon City, down in a valley. It was smaller than Raccoon with only about sixty-thousand residents. Even though six years had passed since the incident, she still couldn't muster up the courage to visit. That's why she moved all the way to the East Coast, it was as absolutely far away as you could get without leaving the country.

"Excuse me," a male voice rang out from behind her.

She discretely rolled her eyes and turned around "Sir?"

He held up the ticket she had wrote him, his thick southern drawl emphasizing most of the vowels as he spoke "I was only in there for a minute-"

"I'm very sorry, sir, but it's the law. Have a good day." She interrupted, flashing a fake smile a spun around, quickly making her way into a local coffee shop. Break time. Definitely break time, she really needed a nice cup of caffeine right about then. She hated to be rude but she really couldn't take anymore. The small shop had a bit of an urban feel to it, the two long walls were each painted a bright pop-art color and canvases dotting the room almost randomly with strange I-can't-believe-someone-would-call-that-art paint and glitter strewn about them. She understood this was a college town, there were at least three major campuses within the city-limits, the closest being largely renowned for art. She got it. But what couldn't understand was why the kids –who were actually only two-to-six years younger than she was- in this shop seemed to think they were Picasso. It just seemed like one big waste of time and money to her.

"I'll have a vanilla iced-coffee, please." She said to the cashier placing money on the counter and moving to the other end to wait for her drink. The brunette's exhausted eyes scanned through the various items in the display counter, in hopes of finding some lunch. She did this every single day, but always ended up disappointed as nothing but cakes and pastries stared back.

Rebecca turned and looked out the shop's large glass window, it sort of reminded her of the window in Kendo's old gun store. Last she had talked to Chris, he had said his sister told him what happened to poor Mr. Kendo. It made her wonder what would happen if a horde of zombies busted through and started devouring all the customers. "-Ma'am?"

She jumped in response, lost in her horrific imagination. The barista quirked an eyebrow as she slowly nudged her iced-coffee across the counter so she'd take notice. Rebecca took it and gave the girl an apologetic look before making her way back to the intolerable oven known by locals as Gate City. Rubbing the back of her achy neck, she glanced down the street at a sandwich shop before quickly deciding she most definitely did not want to eat there again for the fifth time that week. "Woman cannot live on turkey alone." She declared, walking across the street to the public parking lot. She knew she wouldn't get her spot back if she left, and she had pre-paid for the whole work day. But, she was hungry and diner food sounded great to her tummy. Rebecca opened the cruiser's door, and then promptly regretted it. A scorching blast of hot air hit her like a ton of bricks, she had to step back for a moment. She felt like an idiot for forgetting to crack the windows, now she was gonna have to suck it up and pay the toll. Everything she touched as she jumped in was roasting-hot, even her feet felt like they were melting-but that was probably just her imagination. She cranked it and pulled out of the parking lot, paying no mind to her seatbelt until the breeze from the windows cooled it down.

The AC in the diner was a welcoming feeling she'd been waiting for during the whole drive, something about the wonderful chill of an indoor air conditioner beat the hell out of her cruiser's. She waved to a few of her coworkers she spotted, most of them tended to eat at this particular place -for reasons unclear to her, she got bored of seeing the same menu too often. They waved back, motioning for her to come sit with them. "Hey guys." She said meekly, taking a menu. The four men responded idly.

"So, Chambers, catch any baddies today?" the man beside her, Paul Grayson, sarcastically asked and not so much as bothering to hide his snickers.

Rebecca tongued her cheek and glanced at the ceiling for a moment. Not this again. Sure, ever since the captain put her on meter-maid duty her quota has been…well, up and down, to say the least. But that didn't mean she was any less of an officer than the rest of them. "Once again I wasn't the one who asked to be put on bitch detail. And last I checked, you were the one doing it for the past several years." She glared even while the other guys quietly cheered as if the two were having a smack-talking contest.

"All right, knock it off all y'all." Captain Worsham said, pointing a finger of warning to the men across the booth as he walked out of the men's restroom. He was a tall and slightly over-weight male close to his sixties with an obvious case of thinning hair "Chambers, can I have a word with you?"

Rebecca nodded, getting up and following him to an empty corner of the restaurant. "Sir?"

"Throw me a bone would ya? I know you don't wanna stay posted downtown and you don't want to get stuck with the radio. It's too dangerous having you in high crime-rate areas with you about to collapse from sleep deprivation every day. I can't keep you on payroll if you can't work." He said, chubby, loose skin from his cheeks shaking as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really do appreciate your help. It wouldn't be so bad if everyone didn't pick on me so much about it." She said, crossing her arms in defense. She understood that Worsham wasn't mad at her, he was tough on her because he knew she was good at her job. And it was that very toughness that always gave her that extra little push.

"I know, I've tried talking to the dolts but it seems they think that just 'cuz I can't hear that I don't know." He scratched at his furry white eyebrow "You've been here, what, three and half years with no real vacations? Tell ya what, I'm gonna take a leap of faith here and tell you to go vacation, and you better be right as rain when you come back."

Rebecca heaved a heavy sigh of relief, "Yes sir, thank you."

He motioned for her to follow him back to the table, "And another thing, after lunch I'd like you to take the rest of the day off to figure out where you'll be going on your vacation."

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I'm really bad about not finishing my stories and usually get stuck before I hit page ten. They also tend to be without a real plot and revolve too heavily on the mushie gushie stuff. So, that being said, this is going to be a real triumph for me **if** I can finish it and avoid deviating from the plot I wrote.


End file.
